


Did you forget about me?

by tomlinbum



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Coma, Happy Ending, M/M, angsty, harry sings with ed, louis is a footie player
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlinbum/pseuds/tomlinbum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Louis wakes up in the morning – at least he’s almost sure it’s morning, is it morning? – he feels like he’s just been hit by a bus, a very large, full of people bus. The first thing he sees when his eyes adjust (which is taking longer than usual when he wakes up in the morning, may he add – what the fuck did he do at that party last night?) is his mum and he thinks oh shit, I’m in trouble because since when does his mum crowd over him while he’s sleeping unless he’s done something terribly wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did you forget about me?

When Louis wakes up in the morning – at least he’s almost sure it’s morning, is it morning? – he feels like he’s just been hit by a bus, a very large, full of people bus. The first thing he sees when his eyes adjust (which is taking longer than usual when he wakes up in the morning, may he add – what the fuck did he do at that party last night?) is his mum and he thinks _oh shit, I’m in trouble_ because since when does his mum crowd over him while he’s sleeping unless he’s done something terribly wrong?

 

“Oh thank god, Lou. How are you feeling, darling?” she asks him, hand coming down to rest on his arm, rubbing it gently. Louis is confused. Why is she not screaming at him?

 

He looks around the room and now he’s really confused. He’s in a bloody hospital bed for Christ’s sakes. What the fuck did he _do_ last night?

 

“Mum? What’s going on? Why am I in the hospital? And why aren’t you screaming at me for going to the party last night? Well, that’s not really a bad thing, I guess. But before you do start yelling at me… can I just explain myself? I mean, it was Stan’s idea! Where is that bastard anyway? I’m 99% positive that whatever the reason is for why I’m in the hospital is his fault – or partially, at least. Why are you looking at me like that, Mum?”

 

“What party are you talking about, Lou?” Jay asks in a soft voice, a worried expression on her face.

 

Louis’s face falls – great, he thinks, I’ve just told on myself.

 

“The party that James was throwing! You told me not to go because I had to watch the girls while you had the night shift, but I snuck out anyway, after they fell asleep. I left Lottie in charge, of course, but still. I know it was wrong of me for doing that, Mum, but rest assured, whatever happened last night to get me into the hospital has to be punishment enough,” Louis replies.

 

“Lou,” Jay croaks, “Is that the last thing you remember?”

 

Louis eyes his mum, “What do you mean is that the last thing I remember? That’s the last thing that happened, Mum. Or did I do something extremely retarded? Oh god, please don’t tell me I ran around the neighbourhood naked again. I told Stan not to let that happen again. Is that why I’m in the hospital? I got arrested again and you beat me and you’re covering it up with a story?

 

“What year is it, Louis?” Jay insists, her forehead creased and her lips upturned in a frown.

 

“Mum, what kind of question is that?” Louis asks, confused. Why does she need to know the year?

 

“Just answer it, Lou,” she pleads.

 

“2010?” he answers, his voice confused enough to make it sound like a question of sorts, “Why do you need to know, Mum?”

 

Jay raises a shaky hand to cover her mouth and shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes. She leaves the room without saying anything and Louis feels like screaming, so he does. He screams and cries because he’s so fucking _confused_.

 

A couple of nurses run in, holding Louis down and putting medicine in his tubes. Louis’s head feels heavy and he passes out, sweet blackness taking over.

 

\--------

 

When Louis comes to for the second time, he awakens to the sound of voices talking around him, only one he recognizes as his Mum’s and the others he’s never heard of.

 

He slowly opens his eyes, despite how dizzy it makes his head feel. He takes a look around the room, seeing his mum and three boys that he’s almost positive he’s never seen before.

 

“Mum?” he asks, his voice coming out shaky and scratchy from screaming and sleep.

 

Jay’s head snaps to Louis and she smiles, “Good morning baby. Did you have a nice nap?”

 

Louis shakes his head slowly and eyes his mum, “I had a weird dream, though. I was in a hospital and you were being bonkers and asking me what year it was and it was crazy.”

 

Jay frowns, “It wasn’t a dream, darling. Lou, you said the last thing you remember was the party in 2010, right?”

 

Louis rolls his eyes, “Mum. You say ‘in 2010’ like it isn’t 2010 anymore. It’s only been a day, at least, it has only been a day right? I didn’t have that bad of an injury? I don’t see any casts and I don’t look too banged up, so it shouldn’t have been longer than a day that I was out.”

 

“Lou,” someone with curly hair speaks up beside his mum, “It’s 2013. You don’t – you don’t remember anything from the past three years, do you, babe?”

 

“Why are you calling me babe? I don’t even know you. Mum who is this? Who are these people? And what does he mean by its 2013? That’s not possible. I’ve only been out since last night. I must have done something stupid at James’s party and I ended up in the hospital. I haven’t a clue what you all are going on about. Did Lottie pay you to be in on some sick joke or something? Because it isn’t funny,” Louis says in a panicked, choked off voice.

 

“Lou,” the boy tries to speak again but Louis isn’t having any of it.

 

“I’m serious! This isn’t funny! Mum, please tell me what’s going on!” Louis screams, the monitor by his bed is beeping faster with the increase of his heart and he feels like he’s about to explode. He can feel tears slipping down his face (whether they’re from being scared or from frustration, he hasn’t a clue).

 

“Lou. You and Harry got into a car wreck a week ago. You’ve been out since then,” Jay replies in a calm, soothing voice.

 

Louis panics.

 

“What do you mean I was in a car wreck?” he screams, “And who the bloody fuck is Harry? I don’t know any Harrys, Mum. If I’m on some bloody prank show on telly I’ll kill everyone, I swear to you. This isn’t bloody funny.”

 

A nurse comes in the room, asking everyone but the one closest to Louis to leave so that he can calm down and take what happened in. Louis starts to breathe a bit more evenly because now he’ll be able to talk to his mum alone, thank Christ, but then his mum is leaving the room along with two of the boys and the one with curly hair is staying, standing in the room, lanky and awkward and staring at Louis with tears in his eyes.

 

“Do you really not remember, Lou? You aren’t joking around?” he asks, his voice cracking.

 

Louis shakes his head.

 

The boy breaks down in tears.

 

\-----

 

“I feel like I’m in a soap opera, jesus,” Louis says to himself, feeling a bit guilty because the boy in front of him is crying and trying to lighten up the mood a bit.

 

The boy looks up and quirks a small smile, “At least you haven’t lost your terrible choice of humor at times.”

 

The boy sniffles and takes a deep breath in and promptly sits in the large seat next to Louis’s hospital bed.

 

“The nurses said you had a lot of blood-force trauma to your head and that you’d probably forget the crash and a bit before it, but jesus, Lou. Three years. You’ve forgotten three bloody years,” the boy says, breathing heavily out of his mouth. His eyes are big and puffy from tears, his lips bitten red. He looks beautiful, even after crying, and Louis thinks about how if this were under other circumstances, if he’d met this beautiful boy at a party or even at school, somewhere other than the hospital, he’d want to kiss him and get to know every little detail about said boy.

 

Louis takes a shaky breath, “Yeah. Can you – can you tell me who you are? Like, your name and how I met you?”

 

He smiles, “Um. I’m Harry? We um. We met at Ed Sheeran’s concert two years ago. He’s a mate of mine and you had backstage passes because of your mate Niall and I was there and we kind of just, clicked.”

 

“Harry? The one I got in the, um, car crash with?” Louis asks, deciding against asking who Ed Sheeran was. He couldn’t have been that big of a singer if Niall had backstage passes to one of his concerts, considering Niall could barely pay for his lunch at school every day, having to result in savaging food off of Louis’s plate.

 

Harry nods.

 

“How did that happen, then? Were we drunk or something? I’m usually a good driver,” Louis says.

 

Harry bites his lip, a nervous tick, Louis presumes. “I was actually, erm, driving? We weren’t drunk, either. I’m not much of a drinker and you only drink whenever you’re in the mood for it, which isn’t much. But, uh, we were on our way home from a party and I was all riled up because you, um. You were dancing on me and telling me how ready you were to get me home and, um, I wasn’t really focusing? And the roads were full of snow and I saw a truck skidding in the corner of my eye and I thought it was coming towards us so I hurried to turn the car to get out of its way so it wouldn’t run into us and instead I ran us into a car that was speeding and you had, erm, you had your hand down my trousers so you weren’t really sitting level or anything and – god, this is all my fault, Lou, god I’m so sorry.”

 

Louis looks at Harry for a moment, letting his brain process all of what he’s been told. Was he and Harry in a relationship? From what he’s just told him, it sounds like they were. But there was no way that could be possible. Louis didn’t do relationships and he wasn’t out, yet, anyway. He only did hook-ups in secret with blokes.

 

“Were we together?” Louis asks, mouth moving faster than the reels in his brain.

 

Harry’s left eyebrow shoots up, quizzing. “We were together in the car, yes.”

 

“No,” Louis rolls his eyes, “I meant, like. Were we… together?”

 

“Oh,” Harry says, heartbroken tone to his voice, “Yeah, it was our two year anniversary, actually.”

 

Louis starts to cry, hot frustrated tears streaming down his cheeks. It aggravates him that he can’t remember anything, can’t remember a relationship with Harry that was obviously important to him, can’t remember anything that’s happened past the stupid party that supposedly took place three years ago. Does he even talk to Stan anymore?

 

“Stan? What about Stan?” Louis asks even though Harry probably doesn’t even know who the fuck ‘Stan’ is.

 

Harry’s expression goes soft and he smiles, “You don’t really talk to Stan anymore, not since he started dating Emily. What about him?”

 

Louis shakes his head, “Never mind.”

 

Harry looks as if he’s about to say something, his mouth opened on words that won’t come out, when a nurse knocks on the door and pokes her head in.

 

“Louis? I’d like to have a word with you, if that’s okay. And these blokes and your mum are asking to come back in. If it’s too much I can tell them to come back later after we talk, but if it’s okay I’ll let them in,” she says, glasses falling off of the tip of her nose. She pushes them back up with a dainty finger.

 

“You can let them in,” Louis says and feels comforted when he sees a familiar face walk in with the group of blokes he doesn’t know and his mum.

 

“Niall!” he says, smiling. “It’s good to see you, mate.”

 

Niall smiles but Louis can tell it’s forced, can tell that he’s been crying, along with the other two blokes and his mum. The nurse pulls a chair from across the room, pulling it in up until she’s about two feet away from Harry.

 

“Okay, so,” she starts, “You’ve got a bit more of blood-force trauma to your head than we thought you did. It seems to appear that you’ve got amnesia, which, I’m sorry to say, isn’t always treatable. Everyone deals with it differently. Some get it after a traumatic event and never remember anything because of something they want to keep their brain and thoughts safe from, but on the most part, most patients are treated and get a good bit of their memory back. But as I said, every case is different. You may get all of your memories back like you never lost them in the first place, in a matter of weeks or less – or maybe even more. Or you may never get them back and you’ll just have to go by what others have told you. But, I believe that you’ll be okay, for the most part, considering you remember everything up until a couple of years ago. Most patients don’t remember anything at all, so you’re off to a good start.”

 

Louis nods, “So you think I may get my memory back?”

 

The nurse nods and smiles at him, “Yeah, I really do believe that you will. Like I said, though, everyone’s brain recovers differently. But what I think should be done is for you to go home as soon as you can, have whoever you live with help you with your daily routine. Usually being somewhere that you were at a lot in a recurrence helps the healing process and triggers memories. You may remember things in dreams, so I advise you to record every dream you have somewhere so that you can compare it with someone that was in said dream and see if it is just a figment of your imagination or if it was a memory. Also, I believe that if you look through picture albums, watch videos, talk about things that happened between now and then, it should help the memory process. You will also have to go to a trauma specialist twice a week until you show signs of getting better and we’ll see what to do then. Sounds good?”

 

Louis frowns, “So I’m going home… wherever my home is and pretending nothing happened, basically? Except for the two times a week I have to visit a therapist?”

 

She nods, “It sounds difficult, I know, honey, but that has helped a number of people and I believe that it’ll help you, too. Also, don’t be afraid to say what’s on your mind to anyone around you because it may trigger memories. Now, I’m going to go talk to your mum and who you live with and get everything set up and you will be free to leave. I wish you the best of luck.”

 

Louis blinks. What the bloody fuck.

 

\-----

 

Like he suspected, he lives in a flat in London with Harry. Harry shakes from nerves as he drives them home, being extra precautious about their surroundings. Louis feels half annoyed and half thankful that he’s acting like he’s china doll. Annoyed because – jesus Christ – Louis is a bloody adult but thankful because he doesn’t want to get hurt again and risk getting more fucked up than he already is.

 

When they pull up at the complex, Harry carries Louis’s bag and practically helps him up the steps and into their flat. He places Louis’s bag at the front door and turns to Louis.

 

“Time for the grand tour,” he says cheerfully.

 

He shows Louis the living room (where they were already standing, of course) and then to the dining room/kitchen. The kitchen has over a dozen cooking appliances and extras and Louis guesses that it’s Harry’s because there’s no way it’s his, considering he’s bullocks at cooking and that couldn’t have changed, not even a bit.

 

Harry then shows him the hallway, which leads to a spare bedroom and a bathroom. Then, they go to their shared bedroom – which has to be bigger than the whole flat put together.

 

There’s a big king bed in the middle of the room, sitting across from a dresser with a flat screen telly hanging on the wall above it. The closet looks like a walk-in, something he’s only ever seen on movies. The bathroom that connects to their room is huge, also, with a big Jacuzzi bathtub and a walk-in shower (the kind in changing rooms at public pools, where you can fit like five people in it with enough space to reach your arms and legs out as far as they can go).

 

“Wow,” Louis breathes, walking back into the bedroom, “We can afford this? What are we… rich or something?”

 

Harry laughs, “I’m in the music industry with Ed and you’re a footie player. We’re not extremely rich but we have enough money for a bit of a luxury every now and then.”

 

“Wow,” Louis repeats, with more awe this time. “That’s incredible. Are you sure you aren’t shitting me right now? There is no way any of this is possible. I feel like I’ve went into a coma and I’m just dreaming all of this. None of this is actually happening, is it?”

 

Harry smiles sadly, “You aren’t in a coma. God, just thinking about you in a coma, Lou, god I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

 

Louis swallows, “You really care about me, don’t you?”

 

Harry laughs to himself, not an evil or mean laugh, but a silly laugh full of love, “Yeah, Lou. I’m so in love with you, god, I just. I was going to propose to you, you know? And I was so scared you’d say no and I was so mad at myself for chickening out. But I’m happy that I did. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle myself if we were engaged and you didn’t remember.”

 

“Harry,” Louis sighs. He feels angry with himself for not being able to remember, to remember his and Harry’s relationship. He wants to so badly, just to see Harry happy and smiling again. He doesn’t remember how he felt about the other boy, but he can tell that he felt very strongly for him, if the way that his heart beats when Harry is in his presence is any indicator.

 

Harry smiles, “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. Let’s just focus on making you better, yeah?”

 

Louis doesn’t say anything in reply.

 

\------

 

It turns out, Louis has a very busy daily schedule.

 

Wake up, brush teeth, take a piss, on certain occasions (which Harry profoundly says, but Louis thinks it’s probably something that happens every day instead of on occasions) a quickie, breakfast, get dressed, and do whatever is on the agenda for the day. Since Louis is in no shape or form to be playing football, Harry and himself and everyone else being too scared that he’ll get hit by the ball upside his head and get another concussion and loose his memory again and not be able to regain it back.

 

Louis’s body must be used to the go-go-go drill, though, because on the first day of staying home, his body is shaking with the need to move and go _out_. He can’t focus, can’t stay still. Harry just smiles to himself, reassuring him that that kind of behavior is the usual. Louis usually gets antsy when he stays home from work because his body is so used to running around all day almost every day that when he gets a break from it all, his body protests.

 

On the second day, Louis is a little less jittery than the first day and he is thankful for it. He feels like he can pay attention a bit more to going through the photo album with Harry.

 

They start off with one of Louis’s senior year photo books. Harry makes Louis tell the story behind each photo, finding that Louis remembers everything up until the last few pages. But even though he doesn’t remember it all, he still can vaguely remember.

 

“It’s like when you wake up from a dream,” Louis explains, “You can see it happening, in a jumbled up blur in your head, but when you try to explain it out loud, you just can’t.”

 

Harry nods, “I know what you mean. You used to get like that when you’d wake up from a nightmare and I’d ask you to tell me what happened. You never were very good at explaining things that come from your mind. No telling what you keep stored in that dangerous thing.”

 

Louis gasps, “Oi, tosser. You’ve got to be nice to me or I may never remember and you’ll feel bad forever.”

 

Harry goes silent.

 

Louis doesn’t speak either.

 

\-----

 

After a week of not being able to remember much other than the usual blur of fast moving memories in his mind, Louis has a dream.

 

Harry is behind him, he can tell it’s Harry. It has to be Harry, considering the way that the bloke is holding his waist so tightly, like Louis belongs to him.

 

Harry breathes heavily into his ear, biting softly at his neck and pushing his hips against Louis’s bum. Louis can see the other people in the bar dancing in a blur, the music loud to his ears.

 

Louis pushes his head back, resting it on Harry’s shoulder and groaning when Harry’s grip tightens on his hips.

 

“God, can’t wait to fucking get you home, Lou. Wanna touch every inch of you. Make you beg me to let you come, shit. You’re so fucking sexy, Christ,” Harry breathes out into a groan in his ear. Louis smirks, pushing his hips back harder into Harry’s crotch.

 

“Yeah? You sure it won’t be the other way around, baby?” Louis asks, eyes closing when Harry bites his neck particularly hard and yanks Louis’s frame back hard against his body.

 

Louis wakes with a start, his cock hard in his pants. His breathing is heavy and he looks at the clock and groans. 3:30 am.

 

Harry groans in his sleep, trying to pull Louis back down onto the bed, but Louis doesn’t bulge. He feels like he’s on an adrenaline rush. Was that just a dream or was it an actual memory? He needs to know.

 

“Harry,” he urges, pushing at Harry’s shoulder, attempting to wake the younger boy.

 

Harry groans and slips one eye open. “Time’s it, Lou? What’s wrong?”

 

“3,”Louis replies, “And I think I had a memory. Or it was a dream. I’m not sure.”

 

Harry sits up quickly, looking wide awake. “Yeah? What was it about?”

 

Louis swallows. This is going to be a lot more awkward than he’d thought it would have been.

 

“Um. We were at a club? I’m pretty sure we were pissed. We were dancing – well, erm, grinding – on the dance floor and you were telling me about how you wanted to get me home and touch me and I’d be begging you to let me come and I got cocky and asked you if it would have been the other way around. Something by Skrillex was playing in the background,” Louis says, then pauses, “I’m not sure how I know that. I’ve never even heard of Skrillex.”

 

Harry looks like he’s so happy he could die. He grabs Louis hands and holds them in his, a giddy smile on his face. “Oh my god, Lou! That was a real memory! Do you remember anything else from that night?”

 

Louis frowns, shaking his head, “No. I don’t, I’m sorry. But you could, um, tell me? Who was the one begging to come?”

 

He smirks at Harry when he hears a soft whimper come from the other boy.

 

“I um, I was the one – begging, that is,” Harry admits, biting at his bottom lip. Louis smiles.

 

“I feel like I knew that already? Like it was an instinct or something. Tell me about us. Like our relationship and our sex life and stuff. I feel like I should know that,” Louis says.

 

“Erm, well, basically we were happy together? Like we barely got into arguments or whatever and when we did it was over stupid stuff and it didn’t last long,” Harry gives with a shrug and a small smile.

 

“Yeah? Do I know your Parents and your family like you know mine?” Louis asks.

 

Harry nods, “Yeah. All I’ve got, really, is a Mum and my sister. My dad left when I was younger, didn’t really want anything to do with any of us. And we don’t have family that lives close so.”

 

Louis frowns, “Tell me about your mum and sister. What are they like? Do they like me? Do I like them?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry smiles, “They adore you, actually. Probably like you more than they like me, honestly. You love them both, too. We make time between our families and our lives and visit them. My mum’s name is Anne and my sister is Gemma.”

 

Louis smiles, big and wide, “I think I remember them! Your mum’s got straight hair, yeah? And so does your sister. They’re both extremely pretty. You can tell you’re related but you don’t look much like either of them.”

 

“Yeah! Do you remember anything else about them, Lou?” Harry asks, pushing for more memories from Louis with a smile.

 

Louis frowns, scrunching his eyebrows together. “I can remember being shy? And nervous? It’s kind of blurry, like I remember it but I don’t remember it. You know what I mean?”

 

Harry nods, “Can you explain anything else? I might be able to help you pick it apart and tell you when it was and what’s going on and you might be able to remember it a bit better.”

 

“We’re walking up onto a porch? There’s a pale blue door in between two windows with gray drapes on the inside covering them so that no one can peer through. There’s a porch swing. I can smell food and I smile because your mum’s overdoing it and that makes me feel nervous, like I’ve got to prove something. I stop walking. You stop walking too.”

 

Harry nods, getting fidgety, “That’s the first time I brought you home to meet my mum and Gemma. You were so nervous. You almost didn’t want to go because you were so bloody afraid that my mum wouldn’t like you. Which was insane because everyone likes you. It was the first and only time I’ve ever seen you so nervous throughout the whole time that I’ve known you.”

 

Louis takes a shaky breath, “I know. I can remember how nervous I was. I was all shaky. I was so positive that your mum would despise me and then you’d break up with me. I remember how many times you told me it’d be okay, that your mum would love me. But I didn’t believe you.”

 

Harry smiles, “You remember all of that?”

 

“Yeah,” Louis nods, “It’s like… I remember but then I don’t? But it makes it easier to remember when we talk it out. It brings back a lot more than what I could have thought of all by myself. It’s kind of like when something happens and someone starts telling you about it but you don’t quite remember it until they tell you the whole story and then a light bulb goes off in your head and it’s like you remember more to the story than what they told you.”

 

 Louis shakes his head and laughs, “Sorry that probably didn’t make any sense.”

 

“No, no, it did. I completely understand what you mean, babe,” Harry insures him. “So what you’re saying is that when you think you remember something… you think we should talk it out and then you’ll _actually_ remember it instead of thinking you did?”

 

Louis nods. If that is what will help him remember a bit better, than it’s worth giving a shot.

 

\-------

 

For the next couple of days, Louis slowly starts to remember a couple of things with the help of Harry and everyone else that comes over to visit him.

 

He remembers how he met Zayn and Liam (who, he is told, and vaguely remembers, are dating and have been dating before he met Harry) with the help of Zayn, Liam, Harry, and Niall.

 

He also remembers his parent’s divorce, after talking to his mum for a while about the divorce. He remembers how long it took for him to feel normal and happy again after their split, remembers that Harry helped him through it and no matter how pissy he’d gotten, Harry wouldn’t stoop down.

 

He remembers a bit more every day, some by dreaming about the moment and others by talking them out with whoever he can vaguely picture in the memory. Most of his recollections are with Harry, making it easier for him to talk it out with him because Harry is literally always by his side, not wanting to leave him for a moment.

 

It’s been a month of going to therapy twice a week and starting to remember things. Louis feels like he’s on the right track, that he’s doing better.

 

And then his therapist recommends that he go back to work.

 

\-------

 

“She wants you to _what_?” is the first thing out of Harry’s mouth once they’re safe and at home and he decides it’s the right time to tell him.

 

“She thinks it’ll help the healing process a bit better if I get back into my routine with work. She also said that you need to start going back to work, too. We’re starting to struggle with paying the bills and buying groceries and the necessities, Harry. I think she’s right. It’s time to go back to work. It might be hard because I’m pretty sure I’m out of shape and the last time I remember playing footie was when I was on the team at school,” Louis says.

 

Louis isn’t happy with going back to work, either, in short. He believes the whole idea is a disaster waiting to happen. If he goes back, he might end up breaking a leg or a limb or hit his head or something equally distressing because he’s so out of practice. Who’s even on his team anyway? Does he even like the blokes he plays with?

 

“I don’t care about the bills right now, Lou. All I care about is your safety and well-being and sending you back to work after having head trauma only a month ago is not going to do any good for your safety and well-being!” Harry yells. His face is red from anger and screaming and frustration. Louis wants to hide somewhere and not come out for a very, very long time.

 

“Haz,” Louis pleads, his voice straining to try to get Harry to calm down. He understands where Harry’s coming from, why he’s so angry about Louis going back to work, but he doesn’t like Harry being angry.

 

Harry’s eyes widen and he sighs, “I’m sorry, Lou. I know me being angry isn’t helping you at all. I just – I’m worried, you know?”

 

Louis nods and forces a smile, “I know, Haz. But maybe this’ll be good for my memory, yeah? I’m just missing bits and pieces and maybe this’ll be what I have left – the missing piece of the puzzle, y’know?”

 

Harry calms down and decides to kiss Louis and worry about him going back to work on Monday.

 

\------

 

The next day is a sunny Saturday, which is weird for London.

 

It’s a beautiful day outside and Harry wants to take Louis to see so many things, show him all the places that they share secrets and little memories. So he does.

 

He takes Louis to a café down the street from their flat, a small little thing on the corner of a street that no one goes down anymore. The café is quiet and nice, overall. It smells like comfort and happiness and home.

 

“You know,” Harry says, entwining their fingers when they take a seat at the only window in the tiny little café. Louis feels like he remembers something about this spot, something that makes him itch because he can’t quite reach out and remember why this spot is so familiar. “This is where we came for our first date.”

 

“Really?” Louis asks. His smile is so wide and his eyes are so soft. He must look so in love, but he doesn’t quite care, doesn’t see what could even be slightly wrong about showing how much he loves this boy he’s holding hands with while the girl behind the counter coos in their direction.

 

Harry nods and smiles, “Yep. Before we had the luxury we have now, before we really knew each other and I asked you out. I wanted to pick where we went, considering I had been the one that asked you anyway. And I thought this place was special, because I had found it when I first moved here and no one really knows about this place. We sat at this exact spot for almost three hours talking. And when the woman that was working here that night told us it was almost closing time, we left and you kissed me right there on the sidewalk in front of the window.” 

 

Louis feels a tug at his chest, leans over the table and places a kiss over Harry’s lips. He feels like he’s getting better. And he is, honestly. He’s so much better. He remembers so much, only missing a few bits and pieces that he’s sure isn’t all that important until they’re brought up in a conversation.

 

\-----

 

When Monday comes back around, Louis goes back to being a full-time football player. Harry drives him to the stadium where they’re having practice and offers – well, begs, really – to go inside with Louis and help walk him through everything and explain anything he needs to be explained to him. But Louis insists that he has to do this alone, that if he needs help or feels unsteady he’ll call Harry right away.

 

Louis walks hesitantly into the stadium, walking to the bottom of the bleachers where the rest of his teammates are seated, probably waiting for Louis to arrive – whether they’re anxious or regretting, Louis can’t tell yet; can’t quite see their facial expressions from as far away as he is.

 

When Louis gets close enough to see their faces, he recognizes Niall right away and wonders why Niall never mentioned the fact that they are both on the same footie team.

 

“Niall?” he asks, his confusion obviously extremely evident on his face.

 

Niall looks up and smiles. But Louis knows Niall better than what Niall seems to think that he remembers because he can see right through Niall’s fake smile and see that something’s wrong.

 

“Can I – erm – talk to you for a minute, please?” Louis asks Niall and he tries to ignore the hurt looks he gets from the other blokes sitting on the bench. Louis suspects that he must be mates with them, then, because the only reason he can come up with as of why they’d seem upset is because Louis didn’t greet them like he had with Niall.

 

Niall nods and they walk a few feet from the others.

 

“What’s up, Lou?” Niall asks, arms crossed in front of his chest.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me that we played footie together?” Louis asks, sounding confused and frustrated all at the same time.

 

Niall frowns, “I just,” he sighs, “I wanted you to remember it on your own, yeah? Like I was so upset when you didn’t know because we’re best mates, you know? And the fact that you couldn’t remember something so big as your job with your best mate and your relationship of three years with your very committed boyfriend scared me. I thought that you would remember yourself and then everything would be okay. But I don’t think it’s okay Lou. You don’t remember anything until someone explains it to you. And I’m pretty sure you pretend to remember, make yourself believe that you do but you don’t actually remember.”

 

Louis cries because it’s true.

 

\------

 

Niall brings Louis back to the front entrance and calls Harry, telling him that he needs to come get Louis. While they wait for Harry to arrive, Niall gives Louis a stern look.

 

“Lou,” Niall says, “You need to tell him the truth. You’ve gotten his hopes up, making him think everything’s okay but you know it isn’t.”

 

“But I remember, Niall! I swear. It’s just hard to really remember it, you know? Like I can picture it in my head and everything in so familiar but I just _can’t_ actually remember it and it’s so hard! It’s like an itch you can’t quite reach so you have to depend on others to scratch it for you. You haven’t got any idea what that’s like,” Louis screams.

 

Harry’s car comes in to view a few seconds later, coming from the parking lot.

 

“Seems like Harry didn’t think you’d be able to go very long without him,” Niall comments, shaking his head.

 

Harry parks in front of them, getting out of the car to talk to Louis and Niall.

 

“What happened?” Harry asks, concern all over his face when he notices the tears that are still on Louis’s face.

 

“Louis has something he needs to tell you,” Niall says and then focuses his eyes on Louis’s face.

 

Louis shakes his head frantically and looks at Niall, “You’re messing everything up! What happened to you, Niall? I thought we were best mates. Mates don’t do this to each other.”

 

“And if you actually loved Harry you wouldn’t be doing this to him,” Niall says, his voice and face hard. He walks away and back inside of the building with a shake of his head.

 

Harry looks to Louis, confused. “What’s he going on about?”

 

“I’ll tell you when we get home, yeah?” Louis says, brokenly.

 

The game’s up. Louis has no choice but to tell the truth now.

 

\-----

 

Harry doesn’t take the truth well. He goes into hysterics, crying and screaming at Louis, begging to know why Louis lied. He throws things everywhere, needing to get his anger and disappointment out on something, something other than Louis.

 

“Harry, Haz. Please, please stop,” Louis begs, crying. But Harry keeps throwing things and crying.

 

Harry sleeps in the guest bedroom.

 

\-----

 

When Louis wakes up the next day, Harry’s sitting in a chair across from the bed with a mug of tea in his shaking hands.

 

“I’m sorry for how I reacted yesterday,” Harry says, his eyes closing in a slow blink.

 

“I deserved it. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I’m sorry, Harry,” Louis replies, right hand digging into his left arm to calm himself. He wants to cry but he has to stay stable. He can’t let himself break.

 

“Can you just – can you tell me why? Why you lied to me, Lou? I just. I need to know why,” Harry asks, eyes wide with forming tears.

 

Louis frowns, “I thought that if I pretended like I could actually remember then I would remember and everything would be okay. Like – I can picture everything we talk about in my head. I can practically feel it happening… but it isn’t my actual memory. It’s frustrating. I think I’ve had a few actual memories, but for the most part I haven’t been remembering anything fully.”

 

“How did you expect to get better without telling someone the truth, Lou? God, you might have been getting actual help and it might have made you better, but you lied about everything and now, God, now look at where we’re at! We’re practically right back at the beginning!” Harry yells, getting frustrated with Louis again.

 

Louis shrinks back into his pillows, “I told you I was sorry, Harry.”

 

Harry shakes his head and sighs, “I need some fresh air.”

 

\-----

 

Harry doesn’t come back for two days, doesn’t answer his phone. Louis would get worried, thinking that Harry had gotten into an accident of sorts, if it weren’t for Zayn’s constant updates about Harry, letting Louis know that he’s going to be staying at Zayn’s for a while.

 

Louis cries himself to sleep for the third night in a row.

 

\------

 

Louis wakes up, flinching. He’s sweaty and his eyes feel gluey and his back hurts. The mattress creeks from underneath him and he can hear an annoying beeping noise coming from the side of him. He goes to hit it, thinking it’s his alarm for footie.

 

He sees tubes coming from his arm and the room he’s in isn’t his own. He’s dressed in a hospital gown and Harry’s sitting in a chair beside him, black circles surrounding his eyes from lack of sleep. His eyes are closed, though, and his mouth is open in a snore.

 

Louis freaks out.

 

“Harry? Harry? Haz!” he yells, trying to move his arms to push at Harry to wake him up but his body feels heavy from sleep.

 

Harry jolts awake and scrambles to Louis’s side. “Oh thank Christ, you’re awake. How are you feeling, Lou?”

 

Louis furrows his eye brows together and his mouth forms a frown, “How did I get into the hospital?”

 

“We got in a wreck, Lou. You’ve been in a coma for three days now,” Harry says, his voice shaky.

 

“But – I thought that I lost my memory? I couldn’t have been a coma. I wasn’t awake this whole time and I had lost my memory and I pretended like I remembered and you found out and you got angry with me and you spent three days at Zayn’s flat,” Louis says.

 

“Do you remember anything, Lou?” Harry asks, calmly.

 

Louis nods, “I don’t feel like I forgot anything.”

 

Harry smiles, “That’s because you didn’t, baby. You were in a coma. What you’re talking about was probably a dream, where your mind slipped for the long amount of time it was asleep.”

 

“So I didn’t lose my memory?” Louis asks.

 

Harry shakes his head, “Thank Christ you didn’t. I don’t know what I’d have done with myself if you woke up without remembering anything.”

 

“So I remember everything?” Louis asks, dumbly. The dream had felt so real. It’s hard for his brain to process the fact that he was in a coma and it was all just a dream and that he remembers everything.

 

Harry laughs and presses a feather light kiss on his lips, “Yeah, baby, you do. Stay here, yeah? I’ll go get the nurse and then we can go home. I love you, yeah?”

 

“I love you too,” Louis says back and it feels like a relief that he actually remembers that he does love Harry. And he’s never forgotten it.


End file.
